


Fading

by Neonna



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Angst, Blood and Injury, Injury, M/M, Major Character Injury, Scars, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-12
Updated: 2017-10-10
Packaged: 2018-05-26 07:43:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 6,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6229618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neonna/pseuds/Neonna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kise relapses after years of staying clean, and has to deal with the emotional consequences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic comes with a **trigger warning** for self-harm, and potentially self-deprecating thoughts. Please do not read if you are sensitive to issues of this nature. If this material does trigger you, and you want to read it anyway, please practice good self-care by taking breaks throughout this reading, and other self-care strategies that work for you.
> 
> I've had a nagging to write this one for a while. As an individual who had suffered with self-harm for years, I have always wanted to write something about the experience. I won't go into details about my personal story, but I wrote this more for myself than anything.
> 
> I would appreciate a great sensitivity among those who choose to review this piece. In my normal writings, I can take a lot of constructive criticism, and appreciate it, but this material does still trigger me, and is deeply personal to me. I won't answer any negative, or insensitive review, but I will be happy to delete it.

**Fading**

Kise rubbed the salve onto the white lines on the back of his wrist with a small smile. The scars were fading, and had even reached a point where they were no longer noticed in everyday life. Lately, the people around him had stopped asking about them. The people who asked were not his friends, not even people who knew him. They were always strangers passing him by; who paused in their day-to-day lives, and asked him what were those things on his arm? _Those things,_ he would say, _were none of your business._ He never intended to offend. Kise knew they couldn't help it. They always wanted to know what kind of person does that because no normal, no sane person would, right? But they didn't matter anymore. Those strangers who wondered about him because he was clean, had been for over two years.

It had started somewhere during his first year at Teiko. It was just one shitty experience after another, and he couldn't even remember where he had gotten the idea from in the first place. Those memories were never anything more snatches in time, but he did remember the knife. Something had made him grab it, and the release that came as the blade dragged across his skin was almost orgasmic. It was as though he was able to bleed out everything negative that had built inside him, and the physical pain caused a sort of high that had become his drug. It was his vice, but like many of its kind, the price he paid in the end was a steep one. With each wound he opened on his skin, he was unintentionally sewing up a part of his own humanity, and for a while, he had been lost.

But none of that mattered anymore because he was clean, and they were finally fading.

He placed the salve back in his gym bag, and go to his feet, feeling lighter then he had in a very long time. Basketball shoes squeaked against the floor, his heart began to pound under the blue of his uniform. He had spent years learning how to carry himself, and now, Kise was ready to carry his teammates.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally have a new [tumblr](https://neonnawrites.tumblr.com/). Feel free to stop by, and say hello!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is much more explicit than the last. I also tagged this for 'graphic depictions of violence'. The trigger warnings that were on the last chapter will apply to this entire series so please be aware.

Kise's first relapse occurred after he played Aomine at the Inter-High in his first year, but it wasn't losing the game itself that had encouraged him to fall back into bad habits. It was true that losing a game was disappointing, and after experiencing such a winning-streak at Teiko, losing dealt more of an emotional blow than he had realized, but it was the words Aomine dared to utter himself that pushed him over the edge.

He realized that he had to let go of his high regard of Aomine. Somewhere along the line, he had put him up on a very high pedestal, and in order to grow as a player, Kise had to tear it all down. It had hurt, but the realization had hardly blindsided him. Before the Touou game, he had thought that he wouldn't be able to play at his best when he looked up to Aomine so much, but he was reluctant to yank him from his pedestal unless it was absolutely necessary.

Playing the ace at Teiko had sucked because losing sucked, but he always somehow managed to have fun. His therapist later described it as a 'safe environment for him to experience failure', or some shit like that. All he had wanted before Aomine was a challenge, to learn, and grow. Aomine gave him all of that, and a little more than he bargained for because for a little while, he had a place where he felt relaxed.

He hadn't just sat on the court of the Inter-High, he had crumpled onto the floor so shiny it held his reflection, his legs shaking so much that they couldn't bear his own weight. A familiar feeling began to creep up on him, and when he looked to see Aomine standing over him like he had so many times before, it was the coldness in the other's eyes that told him it was different this time, they were different. At Teiko Aomine would smile at him, and tell him that he wasn't so bad, usually making a jab at him being a newbie, but he didn't do any of that. Instead of being 'not bad', now he was weak, and it made Kise want to hit him.

 

He couldn't sit still. He was told to rest, but every time he sat down Aomine's words kept replaying in his head like a sick loop. He tried all of the strategies he knew, all of the dumb, tedious activities that were designed to help clear his mind, and refocus himself, but none of them were working. His own voice had joined Aomine's in a self- deprecating playlist that accompanied him throughout his activities, and the itch was growing. He pushed it to the back of his mind, and went for a run.

When light physical activity didn't work, he began to push himself harder. He needed ingenious ways to tire himself out so that when he finally lie down in his bed at the end of the day, all he could do was fall asleep.

Kise knew what was happening to him because it had happened so many times before. Relapses were always possible no matter how many years he stayed clean, but he had managed to overcome this before. He just had to ride it out until it passed, and it would pass, everything passed eventually.

 

He was so busy trying to numb himself that he hadn't realized how much he had slipped until it was too late. When all of the other ways to vent his pent-up emotions failed, the drag of a razor across his skin felt like taking a breath of fresh air.

Kise had picked another spot on his body this time. The top of his thighs would be noticed less by others. At first he didn't want to leave much of a mark, just a tiny little cut to make him bleed out all of the negativity, but it felt too good. The first cut was small like he had intended, and he leaned his head back to close his eyes, taking a deep, shuddering breath.

He had been so desperate that he was still at Kaijo. It was long after practice, and everyone else was gone. He was alone in the change room in a private shower stall with the curtain drawn. His clothes had been thrown haphazardly onto the bench, and he sat just out of the spray of the water, its warmth keeping him warm against the cold tile beneath him.

His fingers tightened on the razor. He should stop before he was in too deep. It was only one cut, and the consequences would be minimal if he managed to show restraint here. He bit down on his bottom lip enough to cause pain. His body didn't want to listen to him anymore. He had made the mistake of giving himself what he knew he had been craving for years, he wasn't able to stop himself now.

The second cut was deeper, longer. The physical pain making him gasp, and a deep satisfaction settled in his chest at seeing the blood that welled in the wound to wind its way down the pale skin. His body flooded with adrenaline, and even though his heart began to race, he felt more calm, and clear than he had in weeks.

He took his time with the third cut, opening his skin slowly so that his mouth dropped open from the pleasure. The pleasure to be gained here wasn't sexual, but it was still intimate.

By the fourth cut, he was panting from exertion, and he could feel his hair sticking to his eyes from the steam, and sweat. His hands were shaking from all the chemicals his body was pumping into itself as a reaction to the pain he was feeling. The blood made such pretty designs on his skin. He always imagined his emotions to be trapped in his blood, under the skin, and when he bled himself, he felt clean and pure.

Something went wrong by the middle of the fourth cut. The rose-coloured glasses that were caused by the feel-good chemicals in his body were suddenly yanked away. That always happened too, the euphoria of the blood only lasted a few minutes at best, and the consequences afterward were dire.

Kise was snapped from his reverie as the horror of what he had done came crashing down around him. He threw the blood-stained razor away from him, not caring that it skittered across the tile. It was instinct more than anything as he curled in on himself, and buried his face in his hands, hiding from himself as he sobbed, his voice echoing off the walls of the change room.

It was true that the pain he had felt from Aomine's words was gone, but it had been replaced by a monster that was so much worse.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Read the trigger warnings in the notes in chapter 1 please.

Kise was running. His body instinctively knew where he wanted to go, so he focused on his phone clutched in his hand. He couldn't see the numbers on the dial pad because they were so blurry, but it didn't stop his fingers from trying to press them anyway. No one was picking up the phone, it rang, and rang until it went to voicemail.

Taking the train wasn't a good idea. He should be calling for a private car, or a cab, but he didn't want anyone to see him, not in this state. He flipped his hood up, and ducked away from anyone who passed him by.

On the train, he picked a spot without anyone around, and slouched with his gaze turned to the window. For the entirety of the hour-long ride, he tried to ignore the dull throbbing pain in his thighs, or the blood that was seeping through his pants.

In Tokyo he shouldered his way through all the crowds to the street where he set off at a fast walk. In such a big city, and dressed in a baggy hoodie as he was, running could look suspicious. Kise dialed the number again, this time getting an answer.

"Hello?"

"Midorima!" Kise choked out, forgoing the usual 'cchi'. At the sound of a familiar voice, he felt tears begin to well in the corners of his eyes, and his throat constricted.

"Where are you?"

"I -" Kise's steps faltered as he automatically looked to the street signs before remembering that it wasn't necessary. "I'm in Tokyo. On my way over now."

"Hurry up."

The line went dead, and Kise shoved the phone back into his pocket.

 

The front door was yanked open before Kise could even knock, and Midorima's frame filled the doorway, his face blank.

"Where?" Midorima asked, and Kise couldn't meet his eyes as he gestured to his blood-stained pants.

Midorima pulled him inside the house, and upstairs. They ran into no one as they made their way to Midorima's bedroom, his family either out, or asked to stay away.

"Sit," Midorima directed when they had reached the privacy of his bedroom. "Take off your pants."

There was first-aid supplies already laid out neatly on top of the comforter, and Kise felt warm tears slide silently down his cheeks as he stripped out of his pants, and sat down. The fabric had absorbed most of the blood, and it had began to clot. When he pulled the fabric free, it tore at the blood that had stuck, making it bleed anew. Midorima pressed a warm, damp towel to the wounds, soaking up the blood. He knelt on the floor, and got to work while Kise's quiet sobs shook his shoulders.

"It doesn't look like you'll need stitches," Midorima said after a while. "You'll need to register for therapy."

Kise sniffed, and shook his head.

"Yes," Midorima pressed, his tone firm. "Your modelling agent also needs to know. There will be some jobs that you won't be able to do with your bandages."

There was another silent pause. Midorima urged Kise to lift his leg so he could wrap the bandage around it. When he spoke again, his voice had softened.

"Your first relapse. Are you alright?"

"No!" Kise hadn't meant to sound desperate, but once the words came out, they tumbled from his mouth all at once. "No I'm not! I said to myself that I wasn't going to relapse. Everyone told me that I would, but I knew that if I did everything I was supposed to, and sat through all the therapy sessions that I wouldn't, yet here I am! All because I – I'm too weak to even be able to take care of myself...Aomine is right."

Midorima didn't interrupt him, or correct him. There were no words that could make him feel better. Now that he had gotten himself there, all there was to do was to go through the pain.

"Go wash your face," Midorima said, getting to his feet. "I'll call a car for you. Do you have a fresh change of clothes?"

"Yeah. Thanks Midorimacchi."

Kise took his time in front of the bathroom mirror. He dabbed the redness away from his eyes, and rinsed his face with water. He pulled a change of clothes from his bag, and dressed himself properly, stuffing the hoodie back into his bag along with his ruined pants. Bracing both arms on the counter, he took a moment to breathe.

The bandages on his leg felt tight, and itched his skin. He forced himself to ignore the dull pain as he looked at his reflection. When he smiled, it didn't reach his eyes, but it was good enough.

He thanked Midorima with an over-enthusiastic hug, and waved goodbye as he got into the car waiting for him out front.

 

That night he lie in a pair of loose, old boxer shorts, and ran his fingers over the bandage on his leg. The cuts hurt. They throbbed under his fingers, but more than that, his chest felt tight. He knew it was just the emotional pain manifesting itself as something physical. Relapsing was more painful than he had ever imagined. The first time he had dragged a razor over his skin, he hadn't known what he was doing, and didn't know what was to follow. He knew now, and he should have known better. He knew the statistics on the number of people who relapsed, and it was high. He just didn't think that he would be one of them.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was some terminology in this chapter that I found very exhausting to write about, which is why this is a little shorter than the last.

“Why don't you tell me why you're here?"

Kise ignored the question from his therapist. He knew he should answer, and work hard because if he put the work in now it would be easier later, but he couldn't bring himself to speak. Knowing that he needed to go to therapy, and doing the work were two different things. Opening the deep, emotional wounds was more painful than any razor blade across his skin.

If he spoke to her, he knew what was ahead of him: months of sitting in a chair, and sobbing over problems he didn't even know he had, journaling his most personal thoughts just so a stranger could read them, and the dark edge of a razor blade just at the back of his mind. While he was in therapy, he thought about...cutting – the word made him shudder – more than any other time. His therapist often said that it was because he was actively dealing with his emotional issues rather than bottling them up, but it scared him. It scared him because the itch was strongest while in therapy, and if he would just give into it, he knew it would result in months, or possibly years of more work.

His therapist was patient, waiting without saying anything. She had that blank look on her face that they were trained to have, non-judgemental expression, or some shit. Kise hated that he was just the typical cutter victim: emotionally damaged, not willing, or ready to deal with his problems, built walls around him, etc. He knew that train of thought was dangerous, that it would lead to him defining himself solely by his weakness, but he couldn't stop it, and the couldn't stop the tears that flowed freely all because he wasn't strong enough.

 

Therapy wiped him out. He left an hour later having spilled more than he had intended, and utterly exhausted. Craving some air, he stumbled from his therapist's office, and down the street. He had taken time in the restroom after his appointment to dab the redness from his eyes, but he still wore a drawn expression, tight, and obvious that he had been just crying. Kise didn't think as he stuffed his hands in his pockets, too inside his own head, and trying to recover himself mentally. His heart leapt into his throat as he heard an excited scream.

It was from years of being chased by fans that he reacted on instinct, his easy smile slipping into place, and his back straightening. Before he could blink, he was surrounded by his fans as they shoved random bits of paper they had on them, or magazines with his picture on the front for him to sign. He felt wounded, open, and exposed, but even that couldn't stop him from giving his fans the attention they deserved, and he took everything they handed to him with a bright laugh.

He hadn't noticed anything unusual in the crowd until he felt a soft brush of a cool hand against his wrist, and a familiar voice at his side.

"Kise-kun, are you alright?" Kuroko asked.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think those vulnerable moments are the most difficult: the times when people aren't around, but you haven't yet worked through your issues to the point where you're okay yet. That onslaught of mixed emotions, and push-pull between what you feel, and what you know you should do is really tough.

“How did you find me, Kurokocchi?” Kise asked. "Don't tell me you came all the way from Tokyo just to see me."

Kise had stayed as long as he could, chatting with the group of fans, and Kuroko didn't push him. When he had finished he and Kuroko slipped into a nearby cafe where they took a seat at the back for some much-needed privacy. He still felt ripped open from therapy, but his smile was firmly in place.

"Midorima-kun called me," Kuroko said, giving a small, almost unnoticeable frown at the menu, no doubt due to the cafe's lack of vanilla shakes.

Kuroko didn't elaborate, but he didn't need to, both of them knew what he was leaving unsaid: Kise had relapsed, and the first person Midorima had told was Kuroko.

"Momoi-san sends her apologies. Aomine-kun shouldn't have said that when he knew -"

"He doesn't know," Kise spat, making Kuroko pause. "He doesn't know, and I don't want him to. He already thinks I'm weak, what do you think he'll do when he finds out? I don't need his pity, or yours, Kurokocchi."

Kuroko nodded slowly, his face blank, not betraying his thoughts.

"I'm sorry, Kise-kun."

Kise felt his throat tighten, and tears well up. He was too vulnerable from therapy to talk about this right now, and he wiped at his eyes, securing his smile.

"How's that new light of yours, what was his name again?"

 

He called for a car to pick him up to take him home where he went straight to bed.

He hadn't told his family, he didn't think that he would. The funds to pay for his therapy came from his modeling jobs, but he still had to come clean to his agent. He would be working less that was for sure, but it couldn't be helped. He had to face the consequences of what he did now.

Tears tracked silently down his cheeks as he unraveled the bandage covering the wounds. It had begun to scab, and the bandage stuck. He tugged lightly, but as soon as the tiny bite of pain registered, he grit his teeth in anger, and ripped the bandage clean off, hissing as the scabs were torn along with it. He began to bleed, but he moved quickly, readying the next bandage while tears blurred his vision.

When he was patched up again, his leg throbbed in time to his pulse, but he ignored it. The pain was good. The pain was only one of the many consequences for cutting again.

The voice of his therapist rang in his ears, spouting about self-love, and that he was worth while. Punishing himself was going to do more harm than good in the long term.

A choked sob forced itself from him, and he brought his fists down upon the mattress of his bed. His teeth cut into his lip as he struggled not to scream at the top of his lungs as mixed emotions assaulted him. He was broken. He was broken, and he didn't know how to fix himself.

Kise buried his face in his pillow, and cried himself to sleep that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally have a new [tumblr](https://neonnawrites.tumblr.com/). Feel free to stop by, and say hello!


	6. Chapter 6

Numb was the best way to describe it. He knew he wasn't happy, but he wasn't in pain either. At the very least, Kise was functioning.

He had gotten distracted, too wrapped up in all the self-care talk from his therapist. Journaling, resting, all that other bullshit only worked so much. It was work like everything else in his life, but what he needed most was play, and it was so easy to forget.

Kise focused on basketball. He was the ace after all, and he couldn't let his team down. His therapist was always telling him that responsibility was the best self-care method anyway. He played one-on-one with his teammates after practice. It felt forced at first, so exhausted at the end of each day, but after a while he started smiling, and it wasn't a part of his mask.

He came clean with his agent, and still managed to land model work while his body healed. He went to therapy, and after months he was on his last session. The Winter Cup was over, and he felt he had recovered in more ways than one. In the last months, he had focused on nothing, but basketball, modelling, and schoolwork. He didn't date, and didn't have a personal life outside of spending time with his teammates. Each day he had goals to focus on that kept him busy, and those small accomplishments was what pulled him through.

Kise was leaving his last therapy session, feeling lighter, and better than he had all year. He knew he still wasn't happy, that there was something missing, but he hadn't relapsed again either. He had been advised that it was a personal life that he was missing now, but he had been so focused on himself, and done so well that he was reluctant to let go of that. Then again, Kise also dearly missed karaoke.

Kise wandered the streets idly, feeling as though he should reward himself. It was his last session. A hat pulled low over his eyes prevented any unwanted attention as he stepped into the nearest sports, and rec store, making a bee-line for the wall of basketball shoes. He was so focused on drooling over the unused shoes, that he nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of a familiar, and impossibly deep voice.

Peeking over the shelves, he saw Aomine talking with one of the employees. He held a shoe in his hand, and looked as though he were inquiring about the colour.

Kise's chest hurt. He had seen Aomine all year, and played games against him, but that was different. He could distance himself emotionally in a game, or official setting. Even watching Aomine from the sidelines, he was still far away, but here Kise felt invaded, and Aomine impossibly close.

He set the shoe he had been considering back on the shelf, and picked his route out of the store. If he went along the back shelves, there wouldn't be as many people to stop him, and he could slip around and out the other side. He edged around the shelf, his gaze fixated on the spot Aomine should still be with the sales person. He wasn't paying attention, and didn't stop until he bumped right into someone. The responding groan had Kise biting down on his lip as he felt as though his chest were being ripped open. He wasn't ready for this, after months of therapy he wasn't ready to face Aomine.

"Watch it," Aomine growled before he paused, and Kise tried to turn away before... "Kise?"

He swallowed, wincing as though he had been physically struck. Kise tried to slip on a smile, it felt forced, but it would have to do.

"Aominecchi, hi!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally have a new [tumblr](https://neonnawrites.tumblr.com/). Feel free to stop by, and say hello!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This series is kind of all over the place. Aw well, I guess that's why I started it. I had an episode today that was very similar to this, so I suppose I wanted to showcase that.

It hurt. Talking to Aomine so casually felt like something was burrowing into his chest. Kise swallowed around the lump in his throat, and worried his bottom lip. Aomine’s words passed over his head without him really hearing them. His heart hammered in his chest, and he excused himself. He heard Aomine calling after him, but he ignored it as he practically sprinted to the bathroom to vomit into the toilet.

It wasn’t Aomine himself that had triggered Kise’s panic, not really anyway. It was the memory of the pain he’d been caused, and his own fucking fear.

 

When he rushed home Kise’s hands were clenching and unclenching, balling into tight fists with a restless energy. He was panting a bit as he paced his room, feeling the familiar itch in the tips of his fingers. Kise knew what he wanted. He was like an addict missing his fix, but he needed to fight it.

His mind began to poison him: the thighs were the best place to hide fresh cuts. What about the hips? He hadn’t tried there yet. No one would find out. Just a little cut to take the edge off.

He was out of control, pushed farther than he had been in months, and he was teetering on the edge. He needed to move, to swing his arms, and hit something, but letting energy out like that would only escalate, he knew from experience. So he stood there, panting and sweating like a fool, afraid to move lest he do something rash. The energy needed to be let out slowly, with control.

He closed his eyes, took a few deep breaths. The pain in his chest stabbed insistently, but he would get through this. If he fought here, he would make gains in the long run. If he gave in, it would means months of therapy, and he would go through the pain of the last year all over again.

The last year…fuck it hurt. He had hated every minute of it. He’s weak, worthless. No. His thoughts were spiralling again. His mind was a sneaky fuck. He wasn’t worthless, he was pretty fucking amazing, but the part that disagreed with him screamed in his ear.

He felt as though he might cry. He wasn’t going to cry, he was weak – no. If he needed to, if it was just too much right now…

So he let himself slump to the floor. He curled his legs in, buried his face in his knees, and sobbed. It was ugly, and heart-wrenching. He hated feeling the hot tears tracking down his cheeks, and leaving spots in the knees of his pants, but he could feel the pressure slowly escaping.

It didn’t last long before his mind firmed up again, but the negative inner-speech didn’t have the same bite. His fingertips still itched, still wanted to reach for a knife, but it was less now. He was more under control, but he wasn’t free yet.

He picked up his phone, and entered the text message, just one word ‘help.’

It wasn’t long, seconds maybe when he received a reply. For once, Midorima didn’t tell him to die. He didn’t threaten, or push Kise away.

 

_From: Midorimacchi_

_Do something with your hands._

 

It was a good idea. Kise crawled on top of his bed, and reached into his nightstand for the ball of yarn that was waiting for him. Crochet was lame and boring and tedious, but it was the best thing for him right now. So Kise ignored the voice inside of his head that complained about his crappy lines and shoddy work, and focused on pulling the yarn through the hoops.

Through the hoop. Count the stitch. Through the hoop. Count the next stitch. Don’t lose track now, you’re shit at counting previous stitches. Flip the work. Count the stitch.

Slowly, the voice began to quiet, and his trembling hands began to calm.

He would work well into the night, and probably wouldn’t sleep well, but he was safe for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally have a new [tumblr](https://neonnawrites.tumblr.com/). Feel free to stop by, and say hello!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep adding to this series whenever I feel like my writing has gone to shit.

When Kise's phone rang the next morning, he knew who it was without needing to look at the display. The mirror reflected the dark circles under his eyes back at him. He wasn't sure even makeup would be able to help in hiding them, and he stared down at the collection of bottles in front of him.

The phone continued to buzz, the sound loud against the porcelain sink. Kise picked it up, and pressed it against his ear. His eyes looked weird today.

"Kise, what the hell?" Aomine sounded annoyed. "Why'd you run off like that yesterday?"

He didn't feel like he had energy today. It was almost like a movie, and he was just a passive observer in his own life. He knew that wasn't true. If he only wanted to consider himself to be a passive observer then life would move on without him, it had a habit of doing that.

"Aominecchi, good morning!" The lilt in his voice was too extreme. Maybe he should consider acting.

Aomine paused, the line going dead. The background was quiet on his end.

"I haven't seen you in a long time," Aomine said quietly. "I'm not going to lie, having you run at the first sight of me really hurt."

It should have woke him up: upon receiving the information that Aomine had been hurt by his actions, he should have felt many things ranging from echoed hurt to guilt. But he felt somehow distanced from it all. Instead, what replaced the blank space was an urge that blindsided him.

Kise smiled at his reflection. "We should meet up."

"Huh? You just high-tailed it away from me yesterday, and suddenly you want to meet up? Sounds fishy."

"Think of it as my apology to you."

 

He was taking his day one step at a time. Kise hadn't been feeling distanced from anything as he had originally suspected. Like a child who hadn't yet learned that there's a future, Kise's mind honed in on the current task so much that the rest of the world fell away. He put one arm through one sleeve as he was getting dressed, saw only his keys on the dresser, and put one foot in front of the other on the way to the train. It was his therapy at work, and he shook his head at himself. He always hated it when his therapist was right.

Aomine was waiting outside the restaurant by the time Kise arrived. It was odd seeing his former teammate outside of the court, and in street clothes.

Since Teiko, Aomine had developed a look about him, a permanent sneer that he directed at everyone, but after losing to Kuroko things were different. His eyes were softer, and he often bent his head as though apologizing to passerby's.

Kise was standing in front of a mountain. It was as though Aomine towered over him because he had been his hero once. Kise felt his sudden focus begin to crack, feeling the charged emotions beginning to give way to pain. Something must have reflected on his face because Aomine averted his gaze with a soft sound.

It was time he knew. Kise didn't know why it had to be then, after so many months. Everyone on his former team had known about Kise's relapse except Aomine because the fear of being called weak by his former teammate was more than he could stand.

"Hello, Aominecchi."

Kise realized that he had the strength to smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally have a new [tumblr](https://neonnawrites.tumblr.com/). Feel free to stop by, and say hello!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My next challenge is trying to think of how they're both going to heal.

It was painful. The look in Aomine's eyes as Kise rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, exposing the white lines. They were quite faded by now, but noticeable in the light. Aomine had glanced at the scars, but now his gaze was trained on Kise's face as though he couldn't bear to look down again.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Aomine's voice shook with anger, and Kise resisted the urge to flinch. "How long has this been happening? Who knew about it?"

Kise was careful to keep his voice low so the other people crowded into the cafe wouldn't be able to hear him. "It started sometime during our time at Teiko."

It was the second part Kise feared most. Having to tell Aomine the cause of his relapse in a way that Aomine wouldn't blame himself, but thinking on it now, Kise didn't know if that were possible. It wasn't his fault, it was a weakness somewhere inside Kise that was the cause, a broken mind that wasn't entirely unlike that of an addict.

"I've been working very hard," Kise continued carefully. "There has been one relapse, but it's been dealt with."

"As in you've done this again since Teiko?"

"Yes."

"When?"

Kise chewed his bottom lip. It felt as though his heart were being ripped from his chest, and he could feel tears threatening to well up. If he weren't careful they would spill, and they weren't exactly in a private place.

Kise took a breath, and regarded Aomine across the table. He was leaning forward in his seat, hanging onto Kise's every word. In some ways the attention felt good, but it was a little intense. He could see the questions flitting across Aomine's face because they were the same ones everyone always asked: are you going to commit suicide? When are you going to slice through a vein? Are you sure you aren't trying to kill yourself? No one ever really believed him when Kise gave answers because it was difficult to understand. He never had any intention of killing himself, and Kise didn't think he ever would, but the pain felt good. The physical pain was simply a method of distancing himself from the emotional.

"My relapse started after Kaijo lost to Touou in my first year." Kise chose his words carefully.

"So, it was because of me." Aomine finally looked down, at his hands for a long moment. "Did Kuroko know about this? Akashi? Who?"

"I often went to Midorima for help, but everyone else at least knew about it. I asked them not to tell you. I'm sorry if that hurts, but you weren't in a much better mental state than me at the time."

"Yeah." Aomine laughed dryly. "That does hurt. Shit."

Kise didn't say anything else. A past pain wanted to make him hurt Aomine just a little more. Kise wanted to tell him that it was his fault, and pour all the pain he'd been forced to endure over the last year onto Aomine, but that wouldn't be right. He would be telling himself that he was just expressing his feelings, but deep down it would be with the intent to hurt. So Kise said nothing.

"Those scars look old," Aomine said. "Too old to be from a relapse."

Kise flushed, and nodded. "The newer cuts are on my thighs. They're easier to hide there, but as a result I've made them deeper than the ones on my wrists. They're going to scar worse."

"I'm sorry."

Kise felt something inside of him shatter. He realized that he'd been wanting an apology for so long that it hurt.

"I'm sorry that I did that to you," Aomine said. "I'm sorry that you had to go through that because of me. I'm sorry that you felt like you couldn't talk to me. Damn. I'm sorry for everything."

Kise felt himself nodding, but his voice had clogged up in his throat. Tears were trailing down his cheeks, and people were beginning to stare with concerned looks on their faces. He smiled, laughing at himself, and rubbing at his face.

Movement caught his eye, Aomine was staring down at his hands again, but his expression was different. He looked conflicted, and Kise couldn't help, but laugh when he realized that Aomine was trying to comfort him. Aomine had moved in an effort to grab Kise's hand, but had stopped himself, and now appeared unsure.

"I'm okay," Kise reassured him, dabbing the wetness from his eyes. "I guess I didn't know that I was waiting to hear that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally have a new [tumblr](https://neonnawrites.tumblr.com/). Feel free to stop by, and say hello!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been struggling to write for an audience again for a long time. When so many shit things happen to you, and so many people steal your work that just makes you feel shitty, it's difficult to create. So I didn't, or I created for myself for a while. Thank you to those who have reached out, and conintued to reach out with words of encouragement. It really means a lot to me, and helps me to stay positive!

Kise was okay. For a long while, the scars were a big part of his life. He could only take on model work where they would be covered, and people asked questions when he sat with basketball shorts on, exposing the deeper scars on his thighs.

By the time he was in his mid-twenties, the scars on his wrists and arms were all but faded, only visible if one looked hard enough. The scars on his thighs would be clearly visible forever, but he slowly became comfortable with exposing them when around friends. People didn't ask about them as much, but he was ocassionally the object of pitying glances.

It is a form of control. A physical pain that makes him bleed is a bandaid solution to a bigger problem. When stress got the best of him, the thought was always there. When emotional pain mounted, there was always something inside of him that told him it would be easier to pick up a knife, or razor blade. Kise knew from experience that it wasn't any easier, but when people ask if the thoughts ever went away, he had to answer no. Just like the scars on his body, the temptation never went away, but as he became more comfortable telling his story, Kise began to realize that it wasn't so bad. Everyone had their own scars, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally have a new [tumblr](https://neonnawrites.tumblr.com/). Feel free to stop by, and say hello!


End file.
